Four days later, Myth and I reached the Village Harrow on the border between Moonlit and Bramble.
“I hope this tavern is clean,” I said as we trudged along the muddy path that served as Harrow’s thoroughfare. It was also the only road in Harrow. “I swear the last tavern we stayed in had bed bugs. And everything was so dirty! I asked the tavern keeper for a clean mug. He took a dirty one, spat in it, and then wiped it with a rag. And that rag was so dirty it left brown streaks on the mug.” I shuddered. “Oh! That was so disgusting.”
“I remember that place,” said Myth. “The bathing tub was coated with a film of black scum.”
I closed my eyes and shuddered again. “Thank you for reminding me about that. I had blocked that vile tub out of my mind. But now, I have to relive the trauma I endured when I saw that horror. If I ever see a tub that disgusting again, I will slap someone so hard.”
“Don’t forget the bucket next to the tub,” said Myth. “Remember the bucket—the one half-full of urine and… other stuff?”
Oh, my goodness! Until Myth mentioned it, I had mercifully forgotten about that bucket full of stale urine and soggy… Well, you do not want to know, Buster.
I glared at Myth. “Why are you torturing me like this?”
Myth shrugged and said, “It’s fun to see you become so worked up.”
“You have a twisted sense of humor, Missy.”
We reached the tavern’s back entrance.
Myth halted and said, “You know, Iz. I’m sure the rooms upstairs are nicer and cleaner than the ones in the cellar are. You should treat yourself and rent the most luxurious room in Harrow. I’ll be fine by myself in the cellar.”
…Buster, you may remember that letting me pay for her lodging had bothered Myth back in Narrows. Well, during our travels together, she had finally stopped making a fuss over this as we became better friends. But she still tried to convince me to stay upstairs rather than in the cellar where elves had to stay.
You can probably guess how successful she was.
That’s right, Buster. No way would I treat myself while Myth was stuck in the cellar. Sharing a tiny, damp room with her was more enjoyable than staying in a cozy suite was. The accommodations may not have been as nice, but the company could not be beat.
And yet, Myth always made this suggestion. I swear she looked ashamed whenever I rented a room from a tavern keeper.
Anyway, let's return to my story…
I tutted and shook my head. “Myth, how many times must we discuss this? We’ll share a room like always. And that is that.”
I opened the tavern’s door and went inside.
Myth followed me. Even without looking at her, I knew she had hunched her shoulders and bowed her head as soon as she crossed the threshold. Being around humans—other than me, of course—still made her nervous.
Fortunately, not too many people were in the tavern; being surrounded by a throng of humans really made Myth anxious. So it was a mercy that I could count the number of people in the tavern on the fingers of one hand. The tavern keeper was at the bar, cleaning mugs. A barmaid was collecting dirty dishes off a table. And a few patrons sat at the bar, hunched over their drinks.
I walked over to the tavern keeper—a short, squint-eyed man with a bushy unibrow. “Good afternoon, Sir. My friend and I would like to rent a room for the evening.”
The tavern keeper looked at me and then at Myth. “The Coney ’as to stay in the cellar.”
“She’s an elf, not a rabbit,” I said curtly. “But that’s fine. We’ll take a room in the cellar.”
“You plannin’ on stayin’ with ’er?” said the tavern keeper, nudging his head towards Myth.”
“Yes,” I replied.
The tavern keeper turned to his patrons and said, “Ya ’ear that, lads?”
The “lads” snickered. One of them even spat some of his drink onto the counter. Another one whistled at Myth and me. Then, in unison, the “lads” leered at us.
Odd looks and snickering—we encountered this in every tavern. But why? I wondered. What is so funny about two friends renting a room?
I glanced at Myth, hoping the snickering had not upset her as it usually did. Her poor face was as red as it could possibly be. Myth has no reason to feel embarrassed, I thought, so why—
“Coins up front,” said the tavern keeper, interrupting my musings.
“Of course,” I said, handing some coins to him.
Then he gave us directions to our room, ending with, “And you two ‘friends’ enjoy your stay.”
Another round of snickering erupted from the “lads.”
What is so funny about the tavern keeper saying that? I asked myself. But I was unable to come up with an answer; that snickering utterly baffled me.
Myth and I headed downstairs. We located our room and went inside it. “Well, this looks cozy,” I said, giving the room a nod of approval.
“It’s definitely cleaner than the last place,” added Myth.
Her face was still bright red, but she did not seem as nervous as she had been upstairs.
“Yes, it is,” I relied. “And that means there’s hope I’ll be able to enjoy a hot bath.”